


The Sound of Silence

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hush hush, keep it down now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Get Some: Generation Kill Porn Skirmish](http://getsome.oxoniensis.org/). Prompt: fuck or someone will die. Special thanks to [](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/)**alethialia** for helping keep me on course (or get on course, some would say).
> 
> Originally posted 8-13-09

They could hold their breath longer, but they don’t, not wanting the nearly imperceptible sound of it to seem sudden, loud or out of place. They breathe together – Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. – and the stale scent of dust and sand and sweat, of lamb and goat disguise any hint of smell they’ve carried in on them.

Nate lies on his back, not moving despite the rocks and dirt that dig into his ass and shoulders and spine. He closes his eyes from time to time, the faint firelight that occasionally obliterates the darkness more hindrance than help. The daylight hours are different, but they’ve done everything they can do here now except breathe and wait.

It’s been at least fourteen hours. Fourteen hours that he’s lain here on the ground, feeling sweat and heat despite the cooler temperature in the cave. It’s a different heat from the punishing glare of the desert outside. This is the hard press of Brad’s body against his, on top of his. Brad’s legs frame Nate’s. Thigh to thigh, groin to groin, chest to chest. Brad is braced over Nate just enough that they have room to breathe. Nate can feel the tension in Brad’s arms, knows that as soon as they’re free and clear, Brad’s muscles are going to be quivering and useless.

For now they’re perfectly in sync, everything in rhythm. Where Brad is, Nate is. They can feel every movement, every shift, every tic. They haven’t spoken in a day, all of their communication in facial expressions and looks. Nate has nowhere to look but at Brad, and Brad hasn’t closed his eyes at all. He’s like a lizard or snake, sunning himself on the rock of Nate’s body.

Nate ran out of distractions hours ago, running every possible scenario through his mind, composing the report he’ll issue as soon as they have radios again. He can see the map of the enemy’s progress in his mind’s eye and there’s nothing left for him to think about except Brad.

There’s not a word for what it is between them. Moments in silence where they’ve met, darkness around them, and touched. He’s tasted Brad’s mouth and his cock, he’s swallowed Brad down and he’s had Brad’s lips against the base of his shaft, his mouth and throat working to milk every last bit of come from his dick. There have been hand jobs and dry humping and everything they could do with some degree of ease, but there hasn’t been this prolonged contact, this intimacy. Before, even though it was always Brad, it could have been anyone. Now, there’s no one else.

Nate stills even more, breath held on the intake. Brad doesn’t move at all, though Nate knows Brad’s felt the tension, has heard the noises of the men returning to the cave. They’re speaking Arabic and Brad’s mouth curves slightly. It’s the most movement he’s made in three hours and Nate can’t help but smile back. Most of the men have been packing up and it’s the last two – the guards – Nate and Brad have been waiting for, waiting to leave. If they’re in the cave that means they’re gathering the last of the supplies and following the rest of their group north. That means that soon they’ll be able to move and breathe and meet their bird well ahead of the rendezvous time.

Nate’s brow furrows after a moment of their dialogue, his smile fading as sounds he recognizes echo in the hollowness. Whispered voices. Rustling fabric. Zippers. The soft low rumble of someone trying not to be overheard. Nate blinks rapidly and looks up at Brad, slightly unnerved by the look in Brad’s eyes.

He doesn’t recognize the words, but he knows the tone. The urgent desperation, the driving heat of suppressed need coming to the surface and taking over, driving out everything but _want_. He cants his eyes sideways and he can see their shadows in the firelight. Brad follows his gaze, better able to see, and his eyebrows rise up. There are more words, growled low and their meaning clear. There are soft whimpers and the slick sound of wet flesh. Nate bites his lower lip and tries hard not to look at Brad.

“More.”

The shock of the English word hits Nate low in the groin, his balls tightening as his cock jerks. Brad closes his eyes and then opens them, focusing on Nate as the sounds around them grow louder, rougher. Flesh against flesh. The slap and sting of hard thrusts. The groans that meet gripping fingers, that lay heavy on the air. Nate remains still, holding his breath without thinking as the sounds creep higher, closer to orgasm.

Brad doesn’t seem to move and yet he’s closer, his mouth practically on Nate’s. Heat coils inside Nate, a snake wanting to strike out and sink its teeth into Brad, as Brad’s mouth moves silently. They don’t need words, they have signals and symbols and codes, but they know how to read the silences, and Nate can feel Brad’s lips and breath as he says it again.

“Soon.”

The two men groan in unison and Nate’s eyes roll back at the sound, at Brad’s promise. When he focuses on Brad again, Brad’s blue eyes are glazed and Nate can feel the hard press of Brad’s dick digging into him. Soon isn’t likely to be soon enough and Nate forces himself to focus on the surrounding sounds. The fire is doused and night overtakes them, the blanket of black pinpricked with stars that Nate knows are out there in the sudden cold, even though they’re not visible from here.

Nate starts counting off the thirty minutes in his mind, timing every second with the pulse of his dick. Brad watches him, eyes hungry, and their breathing is off, erratic with the promise of _more_ so close on the horizon. Nate can feel the shift in Brad’s muscles, the faint tremor in his bicep as blood pools down into his groin, as his ass tightens and he ever so slightly presses harder against Nate’s body.

Nate’s body grows taut, tensing further under Brad’s, and it takes all his willpower not to thrust up. They’re just past fifteen minutes, and Nate’s fairly certain time has stopped moving. There’s no other sound, even the winds and insects silent, just the nearly imperceptible whisper of Brad’s breath. Nate’s hands tighten on Brad’s hips, fingers curving into the worn, warm fabric of Brad’s fatigues.

Brad’s eyes promise retribution and his hips move again, the barest hint of change, and Nate closes his mouth on a sound, barely catching himself before he breaks the silence. He can read the desperation in Brad’s eyes, the need, and knows it’s a reflection of his own. His body is screaming for more, and there are still ten minutes to go. Brad’s eyes drop to Nate’s mouth and Nate has to lick his lips, losing track of time as his pulse speeds up to the heat in Brad’s gaze.

The silence seems alive around them, thick and smothering. Nate can’t look away from Brad and Brad’s eyes find their way back to Nate’s, hot and promising. The smell of sex still lingers in the cave, the cool dust kicked up, the scent of come in the air.

It’s like a timer goes off inside him when the thirty minutes are up and Nate moves as Brad does, bodies shifting without sound as Nate’s legs spread and Brad is _against_ him and Brad’s arms move, grabbing Nate’s face and holding him in a kiss that hurts from the sharp clack of teeth. Nate tastes blood but he doesn’t care, opening his mouth to Brad’s assault and loving every second of it. His hips rock up into Brad’s, meeting Brad’s equally desperate thrusts.

Nate’s hands scrabble at Brad’s blouse, tugging it free of his trousers as Brad’s hands flatten on either side of Nate’s face, rocks no doubt digging into his palms, as he finds purchase and presses Nate into the dirt. It hurts Nate’s already sore shoulders, but Brad is relentless, pushing against him so that Nate has no choice but to writhe against the rock. Nate touches Brad’s skin, raking his fingers up Brad’s back. Brad pulls back enough to strip off his shirt and then kneels between Nate’s legs, undoing his trousers with trembling fingers. Nate cants his hips off the ground and does the same, not caring about the dirt and dust and rocks as he and Brad collide again, another kiss that burns his mouth, Brad’s tongue fucking past Nate’s lips as his long, thin fingers close around both his and Nate’s cocks, stroking them together in his tight, rough grip.

“Yes,” Nate hisses, arching into him. “Fuck, yes. Fuck.”

Brad kisses him again, silencing them both except for the slide of his hand on their skin. Nate sucks on Brad’s tongue, curving his own tongue around it until they’re completely tangled together, his leg over the back of Brad’s as he thrusts up into Brad’s fist. Brad’s teeth catch Nate’s lower lip and he whispers a groan into Nate’s mouth. Nate shudders, coming hot against Brad’s fingers and palm. Brad’s entire body shivers and he comes as well, his stuttered breath falling past Nate’s parted lips.

Brad eases off of him and Nate gets to his feet, catching the telltale tremor in Brad’s biceps. It’s gone almost before he sees it, and Brad is standing up, putting himself back together and heading to the mouth of the cave. The cave is nearly twenty feet up the mountainside, the face of it fairly steep. They make their way down to a small scattering of rocks and hit the ground, heading for their rendezvous point. They’re still going to beat the bird there, and Nate spares a glance at Brad as they move under the cover of darkness.

Brad’s mouth is curved in a grin, his eyes sparking in the starlight. He moves without sound, watching Nate’s back in more ways than one. The heavy weight of exhaustion layers over Nate and he forces himself on. They can stop when they get to the bird, they can sit beside each other and let go, shake out the willful stillness and relax.

Brad grabs Nate and they stop, listening to the silence for a moment before he leans in, lips pressed to Nate’s ear. He can feel Brad’s muscles quivering as he holds him there. “Next time, we save the hand job for _after_ the mission.”

Nate nods his agreement, his voice soft, just for Brad. “Roger that.”  



End file.
